Fire and Ice
by multicultureiskey
Summary: Lukas Bondevik, one of Norway's most talented young skiers, is moved to Denmark against his will. Stripped of his mysterious fame and his small group of friends, he should feel lost and lonely... But he isn't given the chance. Matthias Kohler, social star, bursts his way into Lukas' world, and is instantly disliked. But could he be the fire to Lukas' ice? Summary failed :(
1. Chapter 1- Shock

_If I owned Hetalia, I wouldn't be posting this on __**Fan**__Fiction, now would I?_

The crowd gasped as the small, slim skier flew through the air gracefully, flipping himself over in a perfect backflip and landing far more gracefully than anyone could comprehend.  
He didn't advertise his shows; he wasn't big-headed about it, it was just routine. Of course, there were the occasional ones that weren't part of his extensive training ritual- this one, for instance. He had been driven out of his house by his own anger, needing an outlet that would not end in tears.

At the front of the crowd, a white-blonde with violet eyes held his camera steady as he watched his brother in the only place he really felt alive- the ski slopes. As his half-sibling, Emil had only known Lukas for four of the sixteen years of his life- but that was enough to build a trust and respect. He helped Lukas with his YouTube channel- it was, in fact, he who suggested it. He was glad he has done so, too. Had he kept his opinion to himself, perhaps Lukas would not be the mysterious king of the teenage skiing world that he was today. They didn't talk much, but the bond between them was the strongest that both of them had. Neither of them were very social, both only with a few acquaintances in school despite Lukas' renown.

It would be an understatement to say that the brothers were happy with their lifestyle.

So, when their father dropped a bombshell on their tranquil lives, it was not hard for the two to turn against him.  
Especially not since said bombshell involved Lukas putting down his skis and Emil putting down his camera.  
Especially not since said bombshell could pull a metaphorical rug from beneath Lukas' feet, giving him more than an emotional bruise or two.

.:.

**_Earlier_**

"Lukas, Emil, come here, we need to talk."  
Well, this was new. Family talks in the Steilsson-Bondevik household were scarce, seeing as Lukas was barely ever home to listen and Emil was either with his brother or reading with his headphones on.

"I need to tell you something," their father said, "And I need you to understand that this is for the best."  
Lukas and Emil shared a worried glance.

"We're moving. To Denmark."

Lukas' jaw dropped. He released his grip on the glass he was holding and it smashed against the hard floor.  
"Denmark...?"

"Why? What's wrong with Norway, where Lukas has a career already and I am studying for my exams? Why?"

"Jemma and I have decided it is for the best- I was offered a job there a while ago and am taking up the offer."  
The brothers both gave a slight growl at the name of their father's girlfriend. It was clear to them both that she only wanted their father's money, yet he himself didn't seem to see that.

"What about MY job? The one that I have worked on for the last six years, the one that Emil has helped me with, the one that I spend every moment I can with?" Lukas asked his father.

"What about it? You can't make a living out of doing tricks on a ski slope."

"Yes, he can! The resort pays Lukas to perform his tricks regularly as entertainment, and he can get money from competitions, and he receives money from advertisements on his videos on YouTube!" The anger in Emil's voice was icy, the Icelander aware of the possible outcome of the situation.

"And where do YOU come into this, Emil? You seem so intent on assuring the importance of Norway to Lukas, but what about you?" Their father asked snidely.

"He is happy here, he handles my YouTube channel, he likes the tranquility of Norway!" Lukas spoke his brother's mind.

"We're moving, and that's final. Emil, you are going to a Danish high school to do your exams, and Lukas, you are going to a Sixth Form college. No buts, that is what is happening. We will leave next week."

At this, Lukas grabbed his ski gear and pass and stormed out to his real home- the ski slopes. Emil grabbed his camera, gave their father a dirty glare and followed Lukas. It was clear that Lukas would be taking out his anger on the slopes- and that meant a good performance. _Might as well take advantage_, Emil thought to himself. _This may be one to remember, if anger equals determination._

_A/N: This is my first story on FanFiction. Please tell me whether or not I should carry on with it!_


	2. Chapter 2- Annoyance

_Je ne possède pas Hetalia. (I do not own Hetalia, in French. Sorry, I had two MFLs (Modern Foreign Languages) today. Taking two languages for GCSE can do that to you.)_

Two weeks later, they had moved into their large Copenhagen apartment. Lukas and Emil dissolved into a stony silence, their hate of the urban vista clear to anyone. The nearest ski slopes were awful- the hardest slopes were reminiscent of the ones Lukas had mastered at the age of seven. Now, the brothers were presented with a challenge most unwelcome: school. They were both fluent in Danish and English (as well as French, German, Norwegian and Icelandic), so there weren't any language barriers, and they were both in possession of sharp minds, but as aforementioned, neither of the pair were particularly social. Back in Norway, this was fine as Lukas was well-known for his skiing talents, but in Copenhagen, Lukas was a nobody once again.

_Typical_, he mused. _I work for years on something, turning an interest into a career, and what am I rewarded with? At least a year in a horribly urban place, the climate of which is not even remotely related to that which I can practice decently on. Only a year_, he reassured himself. _Only a year until I am eighteen, and until I can drop this ridiculous idea and go back to Norway and live on my own. _

With that in his mind, he straightened up and gave his father a glare that was colder than a winter in the Arctic.

.:.

Matthias Kohler was what one would describe as a social being. He had a large amount of friends, went to an equally large amount of parties, spent his free time on social networking sites or in one of Copenhagen's many bars. _Yet_, he thought, _there is still something missing_. He brushed the thought away and threw his bag over his shoulder, heading for the door. "Bye, Mother!"

"Have a good day, sweetheart!" Came the cheery reply.

Upon arriving at HIA (Hetalia International Academy- his parents wanted him to go to a more culturally diverse school than the other rather more dull options Copenhagen offered), Matthias was approached by a flustered-looking receptionist.

"Mr Kohler, would you mind doing me a favour? We have a new student who needs someone to help him find his way around- would you mind being his guide?" On hearing this, Matthias glanced behind the receptionist towards a small teen with his head bowed, checking his phone.

"No, of course I wouldn't mind! I'd love to!"

"Thank you, Matthias, you are very kind... Well, this is the new student, Matthias, meet Lukas Bondevik- he's just moved here from Norway- Mr Bondevik, this is Matthias Kohler."

Stuffing his smartphone in his pocket, the teenager looked up for the first time. Matthias had to stifle a gasp, because the face that was looking blankly into his just had to be the most beautiful he had ever seen... How Matthias wanted to touch that platinum blonde hair swept to one side by a cross-shaped hair grip, just to see if it was as silky as it looked, how he wanted to stare into those icy blue eyes for as long as he could...

"G-great to meet you, Lukas! W-welcome to HIA!"  
The Norwegian gave Matthias a curt nod.

"So, what class do you have first?" Regaining his usual gusto, Matthias beckoned for the other blonde to follow him.

"...History." Lukas spoke with an almost unnoticeable accent, the Dane noted, and in a monotone that was, somehow, a combination of both boring and entrancing.

"Really?! Same! What room, we might have it together! Let me see your timetable!" Grabbing the other boy's timetable, Matthias strode ahead, leading the way to where their class was. _This boy is insane_, thought Lukas in annoyance, at about the same time as Matthias let one thought dominate his mind: _this boy is gorgeous._

.:.

That evening, Matthias thought over the day's events. He had had a great time showing Lukas around, despite the lack of reaction on the latter's part. There was still one thing that bugged him though.

_Bondevik_. Lukas Bondevik. That name. Matthias had definitely heard it before, and it was driving him mad, for he couldn't think for the life of him where he'd heard it. It didn't occur to him that the information he was racking his brains for was just a click away...

.:.

"Good day, Lukas?" Emil inquired, simply out of courtesy, for he knew that the only day Lukas could call good was one during which he spent at least ten hours on the slopes. Pretty much everyday, back in Norway. Absolutely never, here in Denmark.

Emil was concerned about his brother. He hadn't had an easy life, to say the least, neither of them had. Yet, Emil thought, Lukas' was considerably worse. For this reason, Lukas had spent as much of his life as possible on a mountain with only a pair of skis for company. Skiing, for Lukas, numbed any sort of pain and made him feel more alive- and not just due to the speed, either. Emil's father knew nothing of this, and unless Lukas wanted him to, Emil wasn't going to tell him. However, Emil couldn't help but wonder if that had his father been informed of Lukas' emotional attachment to skiing, he might have thought twice about dragging them off to Denmark. Perhaps he would have done anyway, it was clear that his judgement was not the best- he was still blind to the fact that this Jemma only wanted his money. But perhaps he would have decided against it...

_What am I thinking?! I could never tell Father about Lukas' attachment to his sport. He would never understand._

"Meh. You?"

"Uhm... Okay, but the person who showed me around kind of scared me..."

Emil then went into describing the Russian student who had helped him find his way, his mind only half thinking about his new... Acquaintance.

.:.

When he shuffled under his duvet to try and get some sleep in his new surroundings, Lukas' mind was on rather hopeless situation he had found himself in.  
Oh, how he longed for the icy slopes of Norway, how he wanted nothing more than to be performing outrageously dangerous stunts in front of crowds of people, how he missed his recognition. He liked being known for something good after years of being either unrecognised or infamous... He was thrown second glances earlier, but whether that was because they recognised him from his mysterious renown in the world of winter sports, or whether it was because they were surprised to see the loud Dane with someone so reserved. Or perhaps they were just trying to work out who the new student was and where he was from... Lukas really couldn't care less anymore. All he wanted was to be back on the ski slopes, away from everything and practicing his only interest.

And then there was the Dane himself. How could anyone be so damn annoying? So different to the tranquility of his acquaintances back in Norway... Lukas sniggered as he compared Matthias to the British boy he had befriended back in Norway... Arthur generally kept himself to himself and almost always had his nose in a book. Lukas questioned Matthias' ability to read... Maybe that was a little harsh. Still, it was a funny comparison. Arthur, whose wild side consisted of a secret crush on their old PE teacher (who obviously returned the feelings) and Matthias, whose wild side was misnamed as it was clearly larger than just one side.

How Lukas longed for normality.

.:.

**_Crash_**. In his hurry to reach his computer, Matthias knocked over his chair, probably waking up his parents. Oh, well. It wasn't the most important thing at that moment. Woken up by the thought at some unearthly hour, the Dane knew that if he didn't follow his thought, he would probably go insane. Switching on his laptop, he wondered just why he didn't think of it before. He wanted to where he recognised his new classmate from, so where better to look than the Internet? Once he had loaded his homepage, he went straight to Google. _Lukas Bondevik... Who are you?_

When he saw the many pages created in his acquaintance's honour, he let out a sharp gasp. He clicked on one- a YouTube channel- and as the video started, he nearly knocked over his entire desk at what he was watching. _So __**that's**__ what you do in your free time..._

_A/N_

_Да, I'm back! You guys have... __**No idea**__ how much your reviews meant to me. Seriously, as soon as I got my first review, all I wanted to do was post more. Self restraint, Аия... That's the Russian variant of my name, by the way. I do a Russian club after school, which I'm more than just a little obsessed with. I'm still in denial about whether or not I should be fairly personal with my profile. Whatever, no one's really interested in my life- I'm just your average nerd. _

_Anyways, yesterday was a strike day, AKA no school, so my mother and I (I'm an only child, so I'm still pretty close to my parents, and not ashamed to be seen with them in public) went to a nearby city (believe it or not, the county I live in is home to no cities itself) to do some shopping, which means a several-hour-long train journey, which equals... Writing! I take my iPod with me everywhere, so I can write whenever. So that means I'm quite a few chapters ahead. But I'm still only going to update on a weekly basis- Friday's the day! Although, I won't be able to post week after next, as it's half term and I'm off to Mallorca (an island off Spain) without WiFi. So I think I may post two chapters next week to make up for it. And a week of doing nothing in the Spanish sunlight means... That's right! More chapters. But only if you review... *evil smile*_

_Anyway, I just rambled. Again. That always happens, and I'm in danger of doing it again. _

_By the way, in case you were wondering, Lukas is Emil's half-brother. They share(d) a mother, but Lukas' father isn't around to be his guardian, so he lives with Emil's family. He refers to Emil's father as his own. Jemma is their father's bitchy girlfriend. Both of them are OCs- I couldn't bring myself to make one of the characters a bitchy slut. Sorry about that._

_Anyways, ¡hasta luego! I will stop talking now! Although, one last thing- just to add to my nerdy image, I like to watch documentaries about different countries and cultures, and there was one on about Italian food a few moments ago. The presenter- an Italian, of course- was explaining the name behind a certain type of pasta and said that it was called something love related because it "looks like a couple making love!" I don't joke... _

_**NOW I AM TRULY DONE TALKING **__(writing?)__** , I PROMISE!**_

_**Update on updates: Expect a new chapter each Friday, around 9:00 pm GMT. I will notify you in advance if that isn't possible for whatever reason.**_


	3. Chapter 3- Disdain

_I own not the concept nor characters of Hetalia. What I do own, however, is my storyline. I doubt anyone would want to steal it (just because I enjoy writing it, it doesn't mean I think my story is good- inferiority complex, remember?), but please refrain from doing so if you do, for that is plagiarism._

The next day, when Lukas arrived once again at his new school, he appeared to have gained a stalker. Matthias had spent the night on his computer, watching videos of his classmate in his home country, doing what was clearly his passion. He simply couldn't understand how what Lukas did was physically possible- he seemed to defy all laws of forces. As soon as Lukas passed through the gates of the school, he was ambushed by an annoying, overexcited Dane.

"Lukas! Why didn't you tell me who you were?!"

"...What?"

Matthias grabbed the smaller teen and dragged him into a classroom so they could talk in peace.

"I recognised your name yesterday, but couldn't remember where from, so I googled you and-"

"And you found my YouTube channel?"

"That, and a bunch of webpages about you."

"Well, now you know why I'm not overjoyed to come here."

"What are you talking about, man?! The ski resorts here are great!"

Lukas raised one eyebrow.

"Okay, so they're not Norway, but Norway's slopes are extreme!"

At this, Lukas gave Matthias a very unimpressed look, both eyebrows raised in an expression that Matthias would later mentally label as "adorably exasperated".

"...Okay, I guess that extreme probably suits you."

Sighing wearily, Lukas turned to go until his wrist was caught.

"What are you doing?" He said warily.

"I want to introduce you to everyone! You can't just keep to yourself, you need to meet people!"

"I coped at my last school."

"What, you didn't know anyone?"

"They knew of me, but I was only acquainted with a few people."

"How can they know you but you not know them?"

"Knew OF, Matthias."

"...Right. Skiing. Something tells me you're pretty famous back in Norway."

"Skiing is a popular sport."

"I'm guessing it was hard to leave, huh?"

"_Stop acting like you understand_." Lukas snarled.

"Ouch. I'm not completely clueless, I may not have been in your situation, but that doesn't mean I can't empathise!"

Lukas looked down, slightly embarrassed at his harsh comment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"That's fine. Just remember, we are not all out to hurt you, Lukas." Matthias said, somewhat softly, taking Lukas aback. Was Matthias actually being considerate? Who was this person and what did they do with the real Dane?

"So, wanna meet some of the gang?" Matthias practically yelled, once again grabbing Lukas by the wrist and dragging him off. Well, it seemed he was back to normal.

.:.

"Gil, Toni, Francis! I've got someone I want you to meet!"

The trio turned around to look at their friend and the unfamiliar student almost hiding behind him.

"Not another foreign bastard!"

"Oh, hello, Lovino!" Matthias called.

"Go away, bastard!"

"You know, Lovi, you really can't say anything about being foreign because you yourself are Italian, and almost all of us of different nationalities!" The dark-haired Spaniard sang.

"Shut it, bastard!"

"Aww, Lovi, you're so cute when you're angry!"

"Shut it!"

"You look like a little tomato!"

"Go away!"

"Ohonhon! Sexual tension, non?"

"Shut up, wine bastard!"

"Uhh, Toni? Francis? Guys?"

"Oui, Matthias?"

"I was gonna introduce you to Lukas here, he just moved here from Norway!"

"Ah, bonjour, Lukas! A pleasure, cher! Je m'appelle Francis!" The blonde Frenchman smiled his most charming smile at the sweet-looking boy before him, mentally comparing him to his beloved Mathieu.

Lukas just looked blankly back at him.

"This is Antonio- he is from Spain, and Lovino, his boyfriend, he is Italian, he has a twin brother who you may see, and then Gilbert, he is German!"

"Mein Gott, I'm awesomely Prussian!" The albino yelled. "Guten tag, Lukas, it must be awesome for you to have the pleasure of meeting the awesome me!"

Lukas raised an eyebrow.

"¡Hola, Lukas! I am Antonio, but call me Toni!" The Spaniard called. "And, as Matthias said, this is Lovino, mi novio!"

Lukas looked properly at the Italian for the first time, mentally sniggering at the colour of his face after his argument with Antonio and looking interestedly at his hair-curl, wondering idly if held the same sensitivity as his own.

"Don't say it so loud, bastard!"

"But it's true, Lovi! ¡Te amo!"

Lukas watched with dull amusement as the Italian's face went a deeper red as he muttered back.

"Ti amo troppo, bastard."

"Aww, Lovi, you're too cute! I'm going to have to hug you now!"

And hug they did, Lovino muttering obscenities and Antonio grinning like a complete fool. (_Which_, Lukas thought to himself, _he is_. _Really_, he mused. _Is everyone here insane?_) Lukas sighed and tried to escape to his form room. Unfortunately, he was followed once again by the loud Dane, who, once they arrived there, insisted on introducing him to more of his classmates.

"Feliks! Toris!"

Matthias ran over to what Lukas presumed to be a brown-haired young man and a blonde girl- but wait- didn't Matthias say Feliks and Toris? Neither of those were female names...

"This is Lukas, he started here yesterday, he's Norwegian-"

"Oh my god! Your hair clip is like, so totally adorable!"

"Feliks..." The brown haired teen said.

"Lukas, Feliks- Feliks is Polish, and Toris; he's from Lithuania."

"You would look like, so totally adorable in a skirt!"

"Feliks!" Toris repeated, seeing the shocked expression on Lukas's usually emotionless face. "You just don't say things like that!"

So, Feliks is a cross-dresser. Wonderful. Oh, how Lukas just wanted to go skiing...

.:.

By the time their lunch break rolled around, Lukas was starting to wonder if Matthias wasn't so insane after all. Not compared to the rest of his class, anyway. So far, Lukas had met about thirty people, only a few of which he remembered and only remembered due to their weirdness... Except for the two that he remembered as they recognised him immediately for his skiing. An Austrian named Roderich, who he met when he was trying to find the source of the beautiful piano music that was breaking the silence of the music department, and a Swiss teen- Vash- who seemed to dislike the Austrian. Neither of them were as focused on their skiing as him, it seemed- Vash appeared to like firearms quite a bit, judging by the magazines poking out of his school bag, and Roderich seemed to be at the point of marrying his piano, but they recognised him at first sight. This made Lukas feel slightly reassured- perhaps all was not lost after all? He felt like he was kissing his skiing career goodbye when he packed his things to move to Copenhagen. He wondered again why his surrogate father had dragged Emil and himself to Denmark.

What had they done to earn this? His father wasn't aware of just how important his sport was to him, but anyone could see it was practically his life. He personally blamed it all on Jemma. That tart had no right to be in their life in the first place, and now she had gone and influenced his life indirectly yet definitely for the worst.

Why couldn't she just get the hell out of their lives and fuck off back to whichever country she came from?

_**Translations:**_

_French_

_Non: No_

_Oui: Yes_

_Bonjour: Hello (literally 'good day')_

_Cher: Dear (male form)_

_Je m'appelle Francis: My name is Francis_

_German_

_Mein Gott: My God_

_Guten tag: Hello (again, literally 'good day')_

_Spanish_

_Hola: Hello_

_Mi novio: My boyfriend_

_Te amo: I love you_

_Italian_

_Ti amo troppo: I love you too_

_I hope none of these are wrong, I did them from memory and conversations with my half-Italian friend. (Don't ask- I wrote 'I love you' in Russian on the corner of her Physics book to annoy her because I knew she would look at me like I had suddenly gained another head. It took her ages to figure it out and reply!)_


	4. Chapter 4- Denial, Disgust

_Not in ownership of Hetalia. My apologies. Believe me, if I did, the Nordics would appear a lot more often and wear a lot less clothes. And England would always be dressed as his true punk self._

After a week at his new school, Lukas knew more about his fellow students in Denmark than he had in Norway in three years. He knew everyone's name; all relationships; every student's status in the social hierarchy of education; who was crushing on whom; who was rich and who was poor; who could speak four different languages fluently, as opposed to the usual Danish, English and perhaps another (Lukas let out a dignified snort at this; his classmates weren't yet aware of the fact that he could speak six); who was in a band (another snort. The reason for this will become known to us shortly)... General facts that he had had no reason to learn in his old school. Thanks to Matthias, he was now aware of all sorts of things that he had no interest in; he was, however, intrigued as how the Dane could keep up with his social life and his schoolwork. Then again, he wasn't sure that Matthias was keeping up with his schoolwork. Not judging by the mark Lukas got a glimpse of when the Dane managed to drop his work on the floor one lunch break, anyway.

Not that he cared about what the idiot got.

No, he just pitied him.

He didn't feel like he should offer Matthias some help.

And he _really_ wasn't starting to care for the idiot.

Not at all.

_God, no._

.:.

Matthias himself, in contrast to the Norwegian's thoughts, was rather proud of the C that he got in his History class. After all, it was a great improvement over the F he got last term, wasn't it? Forever optimistic. Unlike a certain (_gorgeous, stunning, adorable- hang on, where did those come from? Man up, Matthia_s) platinum blonde he knew, whose eyes widened when he saw the grade on his paper as it fluttered to the ground. He supposed that his grade was kind of crappy compared to Lukas' A*, but that was just the Norwegian being the smart arse Matthias knew that he was. (And Lukas wasn't even in the lesson they had learnt everything in. He could have sworn he said that he only took PE, Music, Physics and Maths back in Norway... What was Lukas? Surely it wasn't natural to be that smart?)

Still, he was gradually working his way past the icy skier's frosty demeanour. Slowly, determinedly, he was learning more and more about Lukas' life- sure, at the moment he didn't have much, but Lukas had to stay for a year at the least, right? Right. So he could gradually find out more about the gorgeous blonde, and make him fall in love with him. Wait, what? No. Just no. He did not just think that. Lukas probably wasn't even gay. _Could always turn him gay. _

Truly disturbed by the thoughts that were polluting his mind (they weren't his. God, no. Of course not. Why would they be? They were probably Francis' or Gilbert's. Not his. He wasn't falling in love with the new student. He had only know him for a week, after all. He was no Francis. He didn't rush into things like that. Sure, Lukas was cute, but a week was too short a time to develop a crush, let alone fall in love with someone, right? Right. Because all that 'love at first sight' stuff was just a load of shit. Totally. He was _not_ falling in love), he slammed his head onto the desk in an attempt to clear his head. Needless to say, it didn't work.

"Matthias, what the hell do you think you are you doing?" Lukas whispered to him icily.

"I'm trying to clear my head," Matthias whispered back.

"It'll take more than slamming it on the desk to make something like that happen," Lukas said frostily.

"Perhaps you could do it for me?" Matthias asked seductively, smirking as a dark blush made its way onto Lukas' face. A moment later, he let out a quiet cry as a powerful kick bruised his shin. The platinum blonde sitting one space away from him gave a satisfied nod and focused again on his phone (yes, they were in class, and yes, he should have been listening, but he learnt this rubbish years ago. His phone was much more interesting, for on it he had his ex-classmate's number and was currently texting Arthur about his old school and wallowing in self-pity at the absence of snow, skis and his small group of friends), his cheeks still stained a rose pink.

Matthias almost squealed at how adorable his frosty classmate looked with that now receding blush, his long, pale eyelashes shining as the winter sun beamed through the window and illuminated them. His hair was also caught by the light, making the Norwegian look almost angelic. The stray curl by his neck that was such a pale blonde that it looked like it was floating just brushed the collar of his soft cotton shirt and the steel hair clip keeping the hair out of his ice-blue eyes shone silver in contrast to the pale gold locks it held in place. His casual shirt and jeans somehow added to the ethereal look, and the worn Converse on his feet (grey again- Matthias wondered if he deliberately did it to match his hair slide (something he seemed to wear almost obsessively, which made Matthias wonder if there was some sort of emotional attachment to it), or if he was simply his favourite colour. He suspected the latter- Lukas didn't seem the kind of person to spend ages picking out one outfit to match perfectly, unlike a certain Polish student he knew) emphasised the jeans that, in turn, accentuated his slim (yet still muscular, somehow, and powerful when it came to delivering a sharp kick) legs.

In short, the Norwegian _seriously_ knew how to dress.

Matthias looked again at Lukas' shirt, noticing that the sleeves were rolled up casually (and also that he had some nice muscle for someone so slim) and also that there appeared to be a t-shirt underneath it. A black t-shirt, with some sort of logo and Norwegian and English writing on it... A band, perhaps? The English said something like... Insignificantly Important? (That makes no sense... Matthias thought, confused.) Something like that. It was hard to read with the shirt over it, and he didn't want to look like he was staring at Lukas. Thinking about it, Lukas did look like someone who would be into rock music, and by the appearance of the logo, Insignificantly Important (whoever they were) were a punk band. Matthias wondered vaguely if they were any good, before realising that he had been staring at Lukas for around five minutes, and was not only behind on his work but probably looking very strange. Who just stares at their classmate's chest? Him, apparently.

_Someone who has a crush on said classmate, perhaps?_

Matthias slammed his head against the desk once again, Lukas giving him another exasperated look.

.:.

Lukas was thinking fast and deeply, tilting his head slightly to see the Dane staring at him.

Why did Matthias keep staring at him? What was he looking at? Lukas discreetly followed Matthias' gaze to his shirt. _My shirt? What's so special about that? Oh, wait, my t-shirt... He's probably wondering who Insignificantly Important are... _

Lukas couldn't honestly blame him. Damn Arthur for picking such a weird name. Confused? One might hope so. Or perhaps not. Moving onwards. You see, when he mentally described Arthur as someone who wasn't particularly 'wild', Lukas left out the fact that Arthur was a punk. Band shirts and skinny jeans all the way. And Lukas himself lived in a uniform of dark grey skinny jeans, a stylishly crumpled white shirt and skinny grey tie loosened considerably and worn to look casual and ever so slightly edgy, yet not disrespectful. (This was, of course, when he wasn't wearing his ski gear.) And when he implied that they weren't close friends, he wasn't lying, but he wasn't giving the whole truth. And it was inaccurate to give the idea that skiing was his only hobby. Can you see where I'm going with this? That's right. They weren't just friends, they were bandmates. They took Music together; Arthur was a brilliant bass guitarist and singer and Lukas could manipulate his violin and guitar like a certain Frenchman could a young, innocent virgin. Along with a certain American drummer/PE teacher and a Romanian student that shared Lukas and Arthur's interest in mythology and was a talented bassist, giving Arthur an opportunity to focus primarily on the vocal part, they made a very skilled punk band.

They could have been very popular, had they not all had other commitments. (Lukas and his skiing, of course, Arthur was an avid writer, Mr Jones, obviously, had a full time job with a passion for sport on the side, and Vladimir... Vlad was just Vlad.) Of course, that was all past tense, as they could not possibly rehearse whilst Lukas was in a different country... He cursed his father yet again...

As the Dane's head made contact with his desk again, Lukas looked up properly and sharply this time. Exasperated with the idiot, he kicked Matthias hard in the leg, whispering at him sharply.

"Stop it, you idiot! You're distracting others!"

In truth, no-one was actually paying attention. The class was small, around nine students, and the majority of those knew the topic off by heart. Those who didn't couldn't care less, and neither could their teacher.

"No-one's paying attention, Luke. Keep your hair on."

"My name is Lukas, idiot! Not Luke, Lukas!" The Norwegian fumed.

"Sorry, Luke," The annoying blonde smirked. Lukas gave him another kick, harder this time, still only using around half his strength. He could easily break the Dane's leg if he so wished, and most likely would do so if Matthias didn't shut up soon.

"Control that temper, Lukas. Anger doesn't suit you."

Lukas narrowed his eyes, practically seething with said anger. "If you stopped annoying me, I would perhaps stop being angry at you."

"It's not my fault that you're so beautiful."

Lukas looked at him incredulously, blush darkening once again. Giving him yet another lethal kick, harder still, he turned away to reply to Arthur's latest text.

.:.

"It's not my fault that you're so beautiful."

_Shit. Did I seriously just say that? _

Lukas gave him an incredulous look, that adorable blush darkening. Just as Matthias thought that he might get away with it, the Norwegian kicked him even harder than usual. (How was that even possible? Sure, Lukas had to be pretty strong for his career in sports, but seriously! Any harder and he could break his leg!) Groaning slightly in pain, the Dane watched as Lukas turned back to his phone.

He would have to research 'Insignificantly Important'. Perhaps then he would have a way of getting his crush (_wait, what? Who said I was crushing on him? Then again... I did just call him beautiful... To his face..._) to notice him.

It was worth a try, at least. Right?

Right.

_A/N_

_I'm giving you two chapters because I'm in Mallorca next week. Sun, sand and sea. In other words, sunburn, bits of grit in my ice cream and a constant fear of jellyfish. Oh, joy. Fun fact: I have an 'albino' patch of skin on my back. Technically, it's not really albino, just lacking in pigment. But whatever._

_Half term hath cometh! The weeks have flown by..._

_So, I made Arthur a part of this story... I'm sorry, I had to. Come on, I'm English and obsessed with almost anything punk._

_This author's note is shorter than the last, thank goodness. See you in a fortnight amigos- I'm off tomorrow! To Antonio's house! XD Mmmm, paella~_

_Review, please! Reviews= maple syrup, and I live on maple~_


	5. Chapter 5: Relief, Disgust (again)

**I own nothing in this chapter.**

_Insignificantly Important is Lukas' band? Is there nothing this man can't do?_  
Matthias scrolled down the page. Arthur Kirkland, vocalist, bass guitar; Alfred F Jones, drums; Vladimir Dragwyla, bass guitar and Lukas Bondevik, lead guitar.

He was using his favourite (and only) way of finding out about his classmate: the internet. Lukas was clearly not just athletic, a genius and drop-dead gorgeous (Matthias had given up on correcting himself- was there really any point anymore?), but also musical. Very musical, by the looks of things. For the first time in his life, Matthias felt a little... Inferior. For here was Lukas, a renowned skier with an A* in a subject he hadn't even taken for at least two years. Now, he could add 'musical genius' onto the ever-growing list. He, Matthias, in comparison was really quite... Unawesome, as Gilbert would say.  
Damn that sexy Norwegian for making him feel stupid. (And there was another feeling there, one he couldn't quite decipher.)

How was it even possible to be that perfect?

.:.

"I'm home," Lukas called out to whoever was at home. Not a second later did he get a reply, and when he did, it was with a slight snarl on his part.

"Lukas, sweetie! How was your day?" The sickly sweet voice of his father's scheming girlfriend replied.

"Fine," He shuddered a little as the awful woman appeared in her doorway as he slouched off to his room. Surely, her dyed blonde hair and magenta lipstick was enough to tell any fool she was a slut? But, apparently, his father couldn't see that.

Shutting his door on Jemma and throwing his navy felt coat over the back of his chair, Lukas unpacked his bag onto his desk. There was no need for him to study, so he wasn't going to. _But_, he pondered, _I ought to make it look like I'm trying._ Slipping his MacBook out of his patriotic schoolbag (printed with the Norwegian flag- he was allowed to be patriotic, he was one of the country's most talented skiers, for Christ's sake), he realised that the way he was going, he would be completely out of practice once he returned home.

While Copenhagen wasn't exactly the Norwegian mountains, at the moment, any slopes would do. He opened up his computer and brought up Safari. As his homepage- his email account- loaded, he typed 'copenhagen skiing' into the browser. Drawing a breath, he tapped the enter key and hoped desperately that the ski slopes nearby weren't too awful. Of course, after the best of the best in Norway, Lukas wasn't expecting much, but he just pleaded with whoever was listening- Odin, Zeus, whatever- that the Danish resorts were half-decent.

He knew he was probably being dramatic and such, but come on, he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Anyone would be dramatic if their greatest talent- greatest passion- was being bottled up, with no way of proper release. Lukas had never appreciated his beloved black pistes so much as he did now, miles away from home.

When the results popped up not a moment later, he heaved a sigh of relief. As far as he could see, there was an indoor snow sports centre in very close proximity to the flat, and it wasn't as horribly small and basic as he had imagined. Sure, compared to Norway, it was just a patch of ice, but to Lukas' ski-deprived mind it was good enough. And a ski pass wouldn't empty his wallet, either.

He slammed the lid down on his MacBook. If he hurried, he could get a few hours in, getting used to the slopes. He threw his keys, wallet and a few other things into his bag, grabbed his coat once again and took his ski gear from his wardrobe, trying his best to refrain from stroking them.  
"Am I going crazy? No. No, definitely not. I just really missed my skis." Lukas thought. Or, at least, he _thought_ he thought.

"...keep telling yourself that, Lukas..."

"Ah, Emil, be a good little brother, and get out of my head, you arse."

"I wasn't in your head in the first place, idiot," Emil deadpanned from behind him. "I just got in from school."

"...So I said that all out loud without realising it?"

"Yep. Still denying your insanity?" The Icelandic teen asked flatly.

"Can I classify that as a rhetorical question?"

"If you must. I knew the answer, anyway."

Lukas turned around to face his younger brother leaning on his doorframe. "So, little brother, how was school?" He teased lightly.

"Don't call me that," Emil frowned.

"Whatever, little brother. Can you tell Father where I am?"

"Of course. See you later, Lukas."

"Thanks. Bye."

Their conversations were short, but that was simply because neither of them had any particular need to talk. They were similar in that way- fairly antisocial, yet both extremely talented to balance it out. They didn't need to make small talk when they could get the job done in under three sentences, leaving more time for skiing- or computing, in Emil's case. Of course, that wasn't to say that brotherly rivalry between the two wasn't in existence. It was just less common and less... Animated than most families. More sarcastic and sly than heated and angry.

Musing over their relationship, Lukas ruffled Emil's white-blonde hair that he knew his younger brother took so much time arranging and stalked out of the door with a smirk. God, he had missed skiing.

.:.

Matthew Williams worked at his local indoor snow sports centre for one reason only: the free pass that came with it. He had a passion for all things winter-related, the foremost of which was ice hockey (at which he himself could admit he excelled), closely followed by skiing. So, with the free access to the ski slopes and ice rink that came with his job, he was happy.

However, he did _not_ enjoy the part of his job that involved being a receptionist. Teaching classes was fun, he liked working with kids, but speaking to all these stuck-up idiots was just annoying. Especially when they thought they owned the place with their self-proclaimed talent. That really got on Matthew's nerves.

So when a short, slim and obviously rich teen- judging by the ski gear tucked under one arm, NOT the expensive coat he was wearing, _of course_ Matthew couldn't recognise brands at a glance, he wasn't _that_ gay, of _course_ not- he was expecting the worst. When said platinum blonde looked at Matthew properly and a flicker of recognition flashed over the skier's otherwise blank face, Matthew himself felt as if he knew this person. No, wait knew of. Who was he, though? And why did he seem to know him? Surely I would remember this person... _But how does he know me? Seriously, how?_

Then, about a nanosecond later, he realised. "Sacre merde, Lukas Bondevik?!" Matthew gasped in shock. The other's expression seemed to brighten a little.

"You recognise me?" Bondevik asked softly, a very slight accent playing with his words and a strange look of something almost like relief on his snowy white features.

"Of course I do! You're Norway's most talented young skier! M-mais... Pourquoi... Pourquoi es-tu _ici_?" Matthew stammered, slipping into French.

"I wouldn't say the _most_ talented young skier. My family moved here a few weeks ago. Would you prefer French?" Lukas offered, apparently seeing Matthew's slight discomfort with Danish.

"Tu parle français?" Matthew asked, slightly shocked. How did someone like Lukas have time to learn French with the amount of skiing practice he probably did?

"Oui. Bien sur," The Norwegian responded.

"Mon dieu... Comment?"

"Que voulez-vous dire?" Lukas asked, clearly slightly confused.

"Desole, ça ne fait rien. Er, how may I help you, sir?" Matthew slipped back into Danish and regained his professional manner.

"I need a membership. One that'll last me a while, I think."

The two began to discuss Lukas' membership, Matthew advising the Norwegian and internally squealing at meeting one of the best skiers in Europe. And probably beyond. He was pretty well-known back in Canada, anyway. Just before he was about to hit the slopes like the amazing athlete Matthew idolised him for being, Lukas looked Matthew in the eye, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hei... You wouldn't happen to know Alfred F Jones by any chance, would you?"

_A/N_

_Okay, this chapter sucks... I'm sorry..._

_Vladimir Dragwyla= Romania, by the way. _

_Translations_

_French:_

_Sacre merde: Holy shit_

_M-mais... Pourquoi... Pourquoi es-tu ici?: B-but... Why... Why are you here?_

_Tu parle français?: You speak French?_

_Oui. Bien sur: Yes. Of course._

_Mon dieu... Comment?: My God... How?_

_Que voulez-vous dire?: What do you mean?_

_Desole, ça ne fait rien: Sorry, it's nothing._

_Norwegian_

_Hei: Hey_


	6. Chapter 6: Realisation

_**"...multicultureiskey does not own Hetalia."**_

_**Merci, Lukas. Have I ever told you that je t'adore?**_

_**"*smack*"**_

_**Owwwwwwww. That hurt. Matthias is right, you are strong.**_

_**"Get on with the story, idiot."**_

_**Aw, Lukas, you know you love me really.**_

The blonde receptionist stared at Lukas for a second. "...Quoi?"

Lukas repeated his question. "Do you know Alfred Jones?"

"Y-yes... He's my half brother... I h-hope you don't mind me asking, but... Why? Do you know Al?" The blonde- his name tag read Matthew Williams- stammered nervously.

"He's my ex-bandmate. And also my ex-PE teacher." Lukas said flatly.

Matthew seemed to freeze. "W-what?! My brother taught _Lukas Bondevik _and he never told me?!"

Lukas raised an eyebrow. "Did he tell you about an Arthur Kirkland?"

"Ouais, he would never shut up about him."

"There you have it. They're completely infatuated with each other. The Queen would be ignored in favour of Arthur." Lukas deadpanned, making Matthew chuckle softly.

"Still... He knows I'm obsessed with almost all winter sports..."

"I don't mean to pry- I'm simply interested- you look younger than Alfred... And you don't sound American..." Lukas trailed off, his curiosity sparked by his ex-bandmate's sibling, whose appearance was so similar to that of Mr Jones, yet from what Lukas could observe, was almost the opposite personality-wise.

"I'm his younger brother- seventeen. Different fathers- his is American, mine Canadian. I was raised in Quebec, while he grew up in New York. We then lived together for four years, then we moved here. Or, at least, I moved here. Al, obviously, moved to Norway."

Lukas nodded, understanding more now. "Where do you go to school? I didn't see you at HIA..."

"Ah, no, I go to the sports academy. Y'know, Christensen's..."

Lukas' eyes widened. "Sports academy? I hate my father! Why did he have to put me in an international school when there's a sports academy right down the road from it?" He threw his hands into the air dramatically, showing his emotions more than he had done in quite a while.

Matthew chuckled lightly. "Ah, parents. They're all idiots. HIA doesn't have such a terrible PE department, though. Though it doesn't have an ice rink- can you skate?" He asked curiously.

"Ja, I can- not like I can ski, though. Something tells me you can?"

"Ouais. I'd challenge you to some ice hockey, but I'm working and you're training... Shame."

Lukas paused for thought. "Hmm... I think I'll take you up on that... When are you not working?"

"I have a free afternoon tomorrow."

"School finishes at four... I can be here by four thirty. I don't know where the rink is, though."

"I'll show you when you get here. Do you have a stick? Skates?"

"Of course."

"See you there, then. I look forward to it," Matthew paused to check his watch. "Oh! We've been talking for ages! Go ski, Monsieur Bondevik- I'll see you tomorrow!"

The Canadian waved Lukas away with a cheery smile, Lukas giving a small one in return. Nothing could lift his spirits like skiing and a promised game of ice hockey.

.:.

A few hours later, Lukas was relatively satisfied with his practice. Needless to say, between the inferior facilities and his long break, he wasn't anywhere near as good as usual, but he was trying to be relatively optimistic about this whole affair. If he was just going to sulk for the whole year, he wasn't going to get any practice in at all, and his career would be broken like a twig. At the moment, he was pretty safe. As his ex-instructor said, talent like his was hard to come by, and once found it isn't going to be dropped quickly. Especially not in their part of Norway, where life revolved around skiing.

So, for now, the least he could do was keep in practice.

As he unlocked the front door of the apartment and retreated back into his room, ignoring the greetings from his family, he realised that his ex-bandmate had never even mentioned having a brother. Then again, any conversations with the American had either been about sport or music, and they had been few and far between. No doubt Arthur knew of Matthew. Perhaps Lukas should ask him? _Yes_... He mused. _Might as well._

Lukas Bondevik, 21:22

Hei. Did you know that Jones has a half brother?

Not a minute later did he get his reply.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:22  
Yes. Half-brother. His name is Matthew, he's Canadian. Why?

_Knew it. Alfred and Arthur know each other way too well._

Lukas Bondevik, 21:23  
I just met him. We're playing a game of ice hockey tomorrow.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:24  
Dare I ask?

Lukas Bondevik, 21:25  
He works at the local ski centre.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:26  
Right. I don't meant to be rude, but I have to dash.

Lukas Bondevik, 21:27  
Have fun fucking Jones.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:28  
What?! We're not- I don't even- askjfyjftjdkthduykf

Lukas Bondevik, 21:29  
Arthur?

Arthur Kirkland, 21:30  
Heeeeeey, Luke! Al here! How are ya? Yeppp, Artie and I are fucking. Well, not right now, obviously, but we were just taking a break. How's Mattie? Didja really challenge him to a hockey game? I'm not sure that was a wise idea, dude- he's like a Canadian version of you when it comes to ice hockey! Seriously, Luke, I wish you luck. Anyways, how's Denmark? Meet anyone ya like? Any girls on the scene? Or even guys? Hmmmm? Tell me your secrets, Bondevik!

Lukas Bondevik, 21:31  
My name is Lukas, you arse. Give Arthur back his phone. I'm sure I'll be fine. Keep your nose out of my life, Jones.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:32  
ashkksjshkak Nawww Luke I'm sure you don't mean that, you love me really sjajahsi I'm terribly sorry about this, Lukas wdnciwedniew TELL ME YOUR SECRETS

Lukas Bondevik, 21:33  
...I'm going to go. And it's Lukas. Not Luke.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:34  
ahuehdjedbhd Handcuffs, Artie? ddsiuedbouwrhdjdjjd give me the phone and come here, brat wquheddheh it's 'Sir' to you, Artie qjwisjsjdjdi

Arthur Kirkland, 21:35  
Er, ignore the last text...

Arthur Kirkland, 21:35  
Yeah, Artie accidentally pressed the microphone button, whatever you call it.

Arthur Kirkland, 21:35  
NO I DIDN'T, IGNORE HIM

Lukas Bondevik, 21:36  
...Ja, I'm going to go now... I'll text you tomorrow, Arthur...

Truly scarred for life, Lukas slipped his iPhone back into his pocket. He did not see Arthur as that sort of person. God, that was disgusting. Perhaps, in hindsight, when he said that Arthur didn't have a wild side, he wasn't being entirely truthful... At all... Whatsoever... _Handcuffs... Mental image... Do not want..._

He shivered and retreated to the corner of his room.

.:.

"Lukas. Lukas. Luuuuukaaaasss. Answer me," Emil called to his brother through the door.

"W-w-what?"

"Come, eat." Emil commanded him.

"O-okay..." _Why is Lukas stammering?_ Emil mused. _Well, there's only one thing for it._

He pushed open the door to see Lukas curled up in the corner of his room, hugging a pillow. "...Lukas? Why are you shivering?"

His brother slid his phone out of his pocket and shoved it towards him. Tapping in the passcode (he hacked that ages ago, Lukas didn't really care), he himself squealed in horror when he saw the texts. H-handcuffs? Sir? Brat?

"Guð minn... That's disgusting..."

"T-that's what I said."

"A-anyway... I can't imagine you'd want to eat after that, but faðir told me to tell you to come."

"O-okay. Jeg kommer." Lukas replied, still looking traumatised. _He must really be disturbed by it if he's slipping into Norwegian_, Emil pondered. _Then again, he actually knows those people, so it must be about a thousand times worse for him. Ugh._

Lukas slowly put down the pillow and crept towards Emil, eyes wide and a look of disgust on his face.

Clearly, dinner was to be a challenge for him.

_A/N_

_Bonjour~ I am back!_

_Firstly, thank you so much for your reviews/follows/favourites! They really make my day!_

_Secondly, I apologise for the crappy chapter._

_Thirdly... IAmApple, you lost the game._

_Translation time! [insert wild partying here]_

_La langue d'amour (French)_

_Quoi?: What?_

_Ouais: Yeah_

_Monsieur Bondevik: Mr Bondevik_

_Norwegian_

_Ja: Yes (kind of obvious, but whatever)_

_Jeg kommer: I'm coming_

_Icelandic_

_Guð minn: My god_

_Faðir: Father_

_I apologise for anything I've missed, and for any mistranslations._

_KEEP THE REVIEWS/FOLLOWS/FAVOURITES COMING! They make me so happy!_

_Thank you so much to xylla for the correction on the Norwegian! _


End file.
